The assistant shoved back his chair and came to the window.

"There's the rest of your picture," said the collector.

As the assistant gazed at the riders, the collector stepped to his desk
and buckled on a gun.

"Want to meet Waring?" he queried.

"I'm on for the next dance, Pat."

The collector stepped out. Waring reined up. A stray breeze fluttered
the flag above the custom-house. Waring gravely lifted his sombrero.

"You're under arrest," said the collector.

Waring gestured toward Ramon.

"You, too," nodded Pat. "Get the kid and his horse out of sight," he
told the assistant.

Ramon, too weary to expostulate, followed the assistant to a corral back
of the building.

The collector turned to Waring. "And now, Jim, what's the row?"

"Down the street--and coming," said Waring, as the rurales boiled from
the cantina.